


Ástarstafur

by AsterRoc, Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: The Serpent's Skin [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Orgy, Other, Transitioning, detransitioned transwoman!Loki, ingenue!Loki, pressured detransitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterRoc/pseuds/AsterRoc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: Escaping Asgardian custody leaves Loki stranded on Sakaar and in the Grandmaster's grasp. This is not an optimal situation in the best of situations, and it's even worse without resources. Loki will have to convince the Grandmaster to look after him, hopefully without destroying himself in the process.
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki
Series: The Serpent's Skin [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1219982
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	Ástarstafur

**Author's Note:**

> Ástarstafur is a love rune with senses of binding, which seems to have two possible interpretations: maintaining an existing love, or seduction/rape without love.

[AsterRoc](https://soundcloud.com/user-732818358) · [Astarstafur (clean no music)](https://soundcloud.com/user-732818358/astarstafur-clean-81820-330-pm/s-NMRvw28DiFd)

[AsterRoc](https://soundcloud.com/user-732818358) · [Astarstafur (full with music)](https://soundcloud.com/user-732818358/astarstafur-full-with-music/s-8nd8rl8t8Vh)

* * *

Attacking Midgard had been a complete disaster. Loki made himself out to be an arrogant schemer, which was no more than what Thor seemed to expect of him. Thor's new comrades in arms were different from the Warriors Three and Sif, yet carried the same kind of fervor for the fight. It wasn't for the glory of their world, but to save it from outside dangers and perhaps to save it from itself. That was different from the Midgard he remembered, even the glimpse of the desert town through the Destroyer's eyes.

This was a different world from the one he'd known, yet some aspects of it felt the same as what he remembered of it.

If he ever returned to Metian, would Faelan be the same? Would the triplets have even heard tales of Loki saving the Hies family fortunes?

It was just as well that Thor slapped the gag over his mouth to silence him. That prevented him from answering any uncomfortable questions. Hirelings would do anything for coin, and Thor's new comrades had to be twisted and changed in order to follow Loki's directions. Perhaps they'd recover from the damage, Loki didn't know for certain. Likely it would be another loss to lay at his feet, another cost he didn't account for.

For all his talk of brilliance, he hadn't accounted for so much. There was no coming back from this, no repaying the debts he was incurring. He was every bit the monster that Asgardians thought the Jotnar were, and he deserved their hatred.

 _It's too late,_ he told Thor, and meant it. The road he'd chosen was a razor's edge to walk, and it seemed as though he'd fallen off the edge.

Of course the mortal authorities wanted to take control of the scepter and over the Tesseract. Of course they wanted to take custody of Loki. He was likely going to be used as a power source of some kind for these deceitful idiots; that wasn't any better than being locked away in Odin's vaults, but no one on this planet seemed to know what power the items actually had. Thankfully, they had no idea about Thanos and the real danger to the planet. Loki hoped that Thanos would assume he died, or was locked away with no hope of escape, especially after losing custody of the Infinity Stones. The Mad Titan's rage would be terrible, enough to raze more worlds and leaving a wider swath of death in his wake.

If these mortals actually knew what the Scepter was, real danger would occur. It was sad that the Avengers didn't even know what kind of men they served. It was sad, really, and he felt sorry for them. They were true heroes, trying to save a world that didn't deserve them, working for men that would undermine their efforts without a backward glance if it furthered their agenda.

Thor didn't notice anything different about Loki. The fool called him brother, begged him to come home. As if Asgard could ever be a true home to him. If Loki couldn't be his truest self, it would simply be a gilt prison, all gold and glass and the self serving stories that they all told about themselves. It was enough to make him retch. 

First among those stories was that he was an Asgardian, that the realm was his home, that he was loved there. Maybe Olenna did, and Loki hoped that she did, but it also hurt to hope.

Loki let them think he was defeated, and didn't fight the Avengers or their cronies that came to assess the damage at Stark Tower. He let them shackle and mute him, let them drag him away in chains. He waved off the Hulk when yanked into the elevator, and that gave him a bit of perverse pleasure. The gag was uncomfortable, reminding him of prior punishments that he would have rather forgotten. At least it wasn't the enchanted thread sewn through his lips. That had led to burning pain over his lips and teeth and tongue, every breath a torment. Supposedly that had been for his own good, but he knew it was a way to contain what they couldn't control.

He'd become the very thing he hated in this world, posturing at conquest when he had done nothing but subjugate and override the willpower of others. Hadn't that been exactly what Odin did to him? Wasn't that the Scepter and the Black Order? He had become just like them. It would make him physically ill if he had eaten anything, but all he could do was hold his head up high and pretend he was still a prince.

He wasn't wholly broken, sass and contrary stubbornness fueling him still. It was a question of making a plan to get away. Metian was safe, so Loki had time to regroup, then come up with a plan to escape from Thor's custody and return home to Metian.

His secret self, buried down deep and all but forgotten, would have to remain secret still for a while longer.

Reluctantly, Loki grabbed the housing for the Tesseract. He could feel its power singing, calling out to him, and Loki longed to hold it directly in his hands. One twist, then two, and a bridge to Asgard was formed.

He couldn't go to Asgard. He _wouldn't_ go to Asgard. That was a place that would suffocate him, drown him in his own rage. Loki would self destruct, explode rather than implode after the past year he'd had with the Other and Chitauri, the predations of the Black Order and the terror of facing Thanos. The Scepter had changed him, warped him from who he should have been, and he probably would never be whole again. Asgardian justice would either end him or lock him away, and Loki was still considered royal blood. That likely would commute the punishment to life sentencing, and he would surely go mad from the torment of his tangled memories and frustrated desires. Metian was his home, the place where he had been everything she was meant to be. Everything about this shape was wrong. His body didn't feel like his own, these clothes constricted too much, and the armor only reminded him of death and destruction. The leather was heavy over the layers of silk against his skin, the gold accents and hidden knives pressing deeply into him. Oh, he'd pretended so well with the Black Order that he belonged, had laughed and been a thing crazed with the hunt. Every step he had taken dragged him farther away from where he should have been, the woman he would have been if she hadn't sacrificed it all.

Each step dragged the blades across his heart. Each misgendering was a bruise on his soul. Each time he looked into the mirror and saw a man, he wanted to smash it and take the shattered pieces to his face to carve it up. His body didn't match his soul, it didn't fit his heart, it didn't conform to the shape of his mind.

This was wrong, wrong, wrong. He should have his hair long and loose or done up in braids and curls. He should be wearing loose robes or elegant dresses. Trousers didn't fit right, even tailored, because even his legs felt wrong somehow. The shape of them didn't feel like his own, and he wanted to scream.

Now that he knew what it was like to be his true self, to be the woman he knew he truly was, Loki couldn't be stifled on Asgard any longer.

No, he couldn't return to Asgard. A lifetime shut away in the dungeons would be too much of a cruelty to bear. Death would be better, but he'd survived the Void and found his way home. Surely he could manage such a feat again.

Wrenching away from Thor in the midst of travel, he wanted to laugh at the shock on Thor's face. The glittering rainbow light hid nothing, and Thor would have to explain to his parents how he had lost Loki in the midst of what should have been a simple transaction. 

Loki bid farewell to the energy of the Tesseract. Those powers felt better somehow, more like his true self than the warping energies of the Scepter. That gave him power, and it had been heady, but the Tesseract felt less devastating somehow. The energies of the Scepter felt alien in a way that he never wanted to feel again. The Tesseract, however, felt comfortable. It reminded him of home. Perhaps someday he would find it again, if any of the deities of the universe were kind to him. He rather doubted it; his luck was utter shit.

Feeling disconnected from his body, Loki found himself falling through the Void _again._ The yawning, gaping blackness of space beckoned, inky darkness speckled with stars. His armor had been spelled to withstand myriad horrors and strain of battle. The gag and binds had only been spelled to inhibit his magic, and blistered away into nothingness as he had pushed through the boundary of the Bifrost. He looked very much the same now as he had when he first fell through the Void, bitter and heartbroken, almost willing to die.

Metian had saved him, had given him purpose, had let him be his true self. Oh, if he could fall to Metian again, find his home with Faelan and the triplets, find the feminine locked away inside of his heart. He longed for it with all the hope and love he'd denied himself for so long.

Of course, this meant he didn't fall on Metian. He fell into a trash heap beneath a portal. He could see the dozens of different portals overhead; the largest one made him almost dizzy when he looked at it, as if he could fall up into it and disappear into the Void, never to return again. This planet didn't seem like much so far, scavengers poking through the rubble and wreckage of downed ships, scrounging for something useful.

It was a place that felt fundamentally abhorrent but was also poetically just. His life was just as ruined as everything around him. 

He pushed himself up onto his feet and half hid behind a wrecked land speeder until he could get his bearings. Scavengers fought and bickered amongst themselves, but an invisibility spell let him walk past without difficulty. His magic felt the same, at least. Perhaps the fall had cleansed the taint of the Scepter on his mind, and he was free to be himself again.

Loki wished he could be his female self again, but wouldn't until he knew it was safe. He'd kept her hidden and secret, and couldn't bear for her to be hurt the same way he had hurt so many others on Earth or at the Black Order's behest.

There was a tall and splendidly built tower in the distance, carvings of faces larger than life at the top. Beyond the trash heaps were tent cities and then actual shanties, and around the tower were actual buildings and bustling people.

All right, there was a city. With people, resources, means to communicate with other worlds. Though he had few things to bargain with, he'd made it work the other times he fell through the Void. He could make it work again.

He had to. He'd left himself no other choice.

***

Some of the people had thought him rather fancy for a scrapper, and Loki didn't disabuse them of the notion. He followed a dirty local with dark skin, a shock of frizzy white hair and tattered beige and black clothes past the tent city, trying to memorize the layout of the place as best as he could. All around him, he saw different hues of skin and hair, tall and short races, and some of the local people had cybernetic appendages to replace those lost. Ripped sheets of metal or broken boards made up the walls of some shanties, others seemed to be little more than torn blankets on poles with worn spots patched with sloppy stitches. These people were poor in funds but not in spirit; he could see some clusters around fires chatting happily. One woman was singing in a language he didn't recognize, bright yellow painted decorations bright on her green cheeks. The woman beside her answered in a call and response pattern, clapping out the rhythm. She wasn't wearing boots, and her tapping foot kicked up a puff of dry dirt. Neither woman seemed to care, enjoying each others' company despite the poverty.

He needed to know all of the entrances and exits, where he could find hiding places, where the fighters and thieves would likely come from. Poverty could mean thieves, desperation driving people to do terrible things. Loki should know, he'd been just as desperate for a long time. He had to be on guard, always ready for the next threat. 

Various people scurried around, some with markings on their faces and others with jewelry made out of the junk around them. It was such an odd place, with strangeness to it, that he couldn't help but keep note of it. He didn't know how it would be useful someday, but it possibly could. 

Because right now, there was no obvious way off the planet.

Perhaps there were other portals able to send him away safely, but if it was an accident that sent him there in the first place, he wasn't sure how he could leave.

Maybe this wasn't actually a place, but Helheim itself.

He wanted to hide, to collapse and faint. Nothing felt right anymore, just eerie and conflicted, a little off from reality in every way he'd known.

Loki found a quiet corner to sit and get his bearings. He was physically exhausted from his fall, but mentally was worn out. Once again, there was so much upheaval that he barely knew what to do with himself anymore. He couldn't recognize anything, and almost didn't want to. Maybe this was all he truly deserved. The city was still off in the distance, and the shanties around him were little more than refuse turned into tents or one room dwellings. Above their heads was a sky punctuated by wormholes occasionally spitting out debris that fell into the junkyard areas of the planet. What in the universe was this place?

Taking a breath, he pushed himself up to his feet and again headed to the large building in the center of the city. None of the creatures around him took any notice, and Loki didn't know if he should feel glad of it or insulted. No one knew him here. There were no Chitauri, no overbearing Kree, none of the races that had few survivors all working for Thanos' glory.

He was safe here, but his sense of danger was still on high alert.

The front door to the tower was a massive set made out of metal painted bright red, inset with gold and jewels. It was an ostentatious display of wealth from the start, well guarded, and Loki knew that those guards would shoot down any of the hungry people outside if they thought to steal even the smallest of jewels. This was a display meant to intimidate, to show how important and grand its owner truly was.

To Loki's surprise, he was immediately received by the guards. "Who seeks the Grandmaster?" one of the pair of guards intoned thunderously.

Ah. A name. One Loki hadn't heard of before, but this personage was obviously important and powerful. He smiled ingratiatingly at the guards. "I am but a simple man seeking audience with the esteemed Grandmaster." 

"For what?"

"I am lost, and seek refuge until I can get back home."

One guard, definitely no more than a recent hireling, scoffed at Loki's words. "Why should the Grandmaster help you?"

Shrugging, Loki kept the regal smile on his face even though he was irritated. Surely everyone knew about Asgard and the royal family. This man was an idiot. Then again, he also didn't want Asgard to be notified of his whereabouts.

"I am the last Prince of Jotunheim. I have come to pay my respects."

The second guard eyed him warily, but surely he didn't know how badly Loki wanted to throw up at calling himself a Prince. "You will wait here."

"Of course," Loki replied graciously, spreading his hands wide in a magnanimous gesture. 

Loki and the first guard remained at the front gate, awaiting word from the second guard. This guard made no attempt at conversation, and nothing was done to ease the awkward potential of this meeting. Finally, doors slid open and the second guard said "Our esteemed Lord the Grandmaster wants to learn of your world. None of your kind had been here before."

Though he nodded and kept the smile on his face, Loki quailed on the inside. He should have admitted to being from Asgard, not Jotunheim. But if anyone actually contacted Asgard, he would immediately be found out. Would they simply hand him over for punishment? Likely. So if he admitted his true origins, he would likely be back to his initial options of death or permanent imprisonment. There were dungeons beneath the palace, as well as a prison in the outskirts of the Asgardian disc manned by Einherjar trainees and elder fighters not yet ready for retirement. Between the two options, Loki would likely be trapped in the bowels of the palace, caged and isolated for all time. It would be a lighter and brighter Void, but isolation just the same.

Lying awake with his own thoughts was certainly punishment enough.

This new place was shining in a different way from Asgard. Its polished floors were like mirrors, with white walls and red accents. Other areas were red walled with white accents. It brought to mind fresh blood, and Loki couldn't help but recall Thor's blood on his hand at Stark Tower, or the nightmares he had of Faelan bleeding to death on Metian. His heart ached for a moment before he could lock it away.

"Can you tell me about this planet and your lord?" Loki asked the new set of guards that took over his escort duty so the first set could remain outside. These two guards had almost identical dour expressions on their scarred faces as they brought him through the maze of halls. One was slender and scarred, with black skin and eyes so light blue they were nearly white. The other was shorter, with blue skin and a ridge of bone that extended from the nose up over the skull. The ridge parted his green and white hair, which was close cropped. Their uniforms had no sense of individuality about them; no name tags, no epaulets or medals, no decorations.

When they remained silent, Loki tried again. "I hope to learn where I am."

"You are on Sakaar. It's a world created and maintained with the beneficence of the Grandmaster."

Loki made sure to appear duly impressed. "That's quite an accomplishment indeed. Such power."

"And generosity to the people. Not only does he let them live here, even those that aren't Scrappers, but he provides them with entertainment and festivals." The guards grinned openly now, and their expressions lit up. The painted markings on the speaking guard's face crinkled a bit, indicating it was paint and not a tattoo, but before Loki could ask what they meant, they were already at a throne room of sorts. It had a long central walkway leading up to a dais with a large throne-like chair.

Seated within the chair was a tall pale skinned man with brightly colored robes, white hair and blue lined eyes as well as lip color with a blue stripe down from his lower lip to his chin. The woman at his side was of a darker skin tone than his, but not black, with her black hair scraped back in a severe hairstyle. She wore bright colors as well, but appeared less garish than the Grandmaster. Her expression was one of perpetual disdain, and she appeared to hold everyone that wasn't the Grandmaster in complete and utter contempt. 

He understood the sentiment, even as he chafed under it.

Bowing low with his hands clasped together in front of him, Loki smiled winningly. "Grandmaster," he began in the same tone he used with diplomats since his youth, "I am grateful for the audience and opportunity to meet your august personage."

The Grandmaster seemed to preen a bit, and the large woman beside him grumbled. He paid her no mind and even waved her off in a dismissive manner, indicating that this was a common occurrence. She likely tempered his more flamboyant and impulsive decisions, but also couldn't countermand them. Good to know.

"Of course, of course," the Grandmaster said, effusive and overly dramatic about the generous nature he wanted to display. "Lost travelers are something of our specialty on Sakaar, and just about everyone stays on."

"That sounds like a wonderful place indeed," Loki said. "And the ones that don't stay?"

There was an infinitesimal tightening of the Grandmaster's expression. The woman didn't bother to hide her glare. "They are often sent on missions for me," the Grandmaster lied.

"You are clearly a powerful and generous leader here," Loki said, bowing again. If he looked like he believed in the lies, his own would be less likely called out. That's the way it usually worked.

Powerful or no, the Grandmaster was still just a man, and Loki could trick and manipulate people whenever he wanted to. He had his doubts about fooling women now thanks to Natasha Romanoff, but he could still manipulate men.

Mollified, the Grandmaster settled back in his seat. "So what brings you to Sakaar?"

"I am Loki of Jotunheim, the last prince of that blasted and destroyed realm," Loki began. No need to mention that he was the one to destroy it, and that he had killed King Laufey himself. "Through a number of misadventures, I seem to have landed on this planet. I'm not exactly sure how it happened."

"Oh, I'm sure you've noticed all the portals in the skies, yes?" the Grandmaster said, sounding proud of himself. "This is a created world, one of my own making, by my design. The portals mean that I control time and space and perceptions here. And quite often, these portals bring me the most interesting things."

The Grandmaster's gaze seemed uncomfortably sensual. This was probably not going to end well for Loki after all.

Without giving away the trepidation he was beginning to feel, Loki smiled at him. "Indeed," he murmured. "What kinds of interesting things?"

Waving off the woman beside him, the Grandmaster stood up. "Topaz, you can deal with any scrappers that come in, can't you?"

With a weary sigh, she nodded and then sat in the Grandmaster's seat as he descended the dais. "I do so enjoy conversations. And new things. New experiences. Sights, smells, tastes, _acts..."_

Loki wasn't sure he understood or _wanted_ to understand the innuendo. Scratch that, he _definitely_ understood the expression on his face and the way that the Grandmaster reached out to clasp his hand. It was a possessive, greedy expression, lust in his eyes.

"I feel there is much for me to learn on Sakaar," Loki temporized.

"Oh yes," the Grandmaster said, patting his hand. "Your land is destroyed, people all gone... I have a great many who've fallen here, the last of their kind. The despair that they feel can be so much, so overwhelming. We welcome all these lost souls, give them a home, a place to belong."

"Quite the philanthropist," Loki said.

"Exactly."

Bypassing several open areas that could have been offices or conference rooms, the Grandmaster led Loki to a sumptuous area with throw pillows and soft padding that resembled a bed. 

Shocked at how quickly and obviously the Grandmaster was moving, Loki stepped back and began shaking his head. "I fear you have rather the wrong impression of me."

"Is it not better to speak of uncomfortable things in a comfortable area?" the Grandmaster chided, laughter in his voice. "No disturbing plates of food or whatever." The Grandmaster sprawled across one of the padded areas, all but grinning at Loki's discomfort. "My, you're quite defensive. Someone did you a bad turn in the past."

"Multiple turns," Loki admitted, sure that sympathy was a better play to use. This man thought himself a savior, after all. Grimy and disheveled, with cuts on his face, Loki knew he looked dirty, young and pathetic. Loki gingerly set himself down on various pillows on the floor facing the Grandmaster, sure that his armor could be ignored.

The Grandmaster tilted his head to the side with a thoughtful expression, but his eyes lit up. Yes, Loki had gotten it right; the Grandmaster wanted to be a savior, wanted to feel important and special. Loki could play off that.

"Please, tell me what happened. You're a prince! And for royalty to fall upon such hard times..."

Loki nodded and began tripping his way through a woeful tale of war between Jotunheim and Asgard lasting centuries. Laufey's son was stolen from him soon after birth by his greatest enemy, the society left in ruins.

"And you're that boy, of course," the Grandmaster cooed, reaching out to grasp Loki's hand. His gaze was sharp and assessing, leaving Loki to wonder if he had gone a bit too far with the stories. "Poor thing."

"So I've been out of place and out of sorts. There is nothing left of Jotunheim, no kingdom to claim as my own," Loki said, lifting his chin. Maybe he could still pull this off. "But I have persevered as best as I could, despite the dangers."

"Of course you have had the hardest time," the Grandmaster purred. Now he had a predatory gaze.

Ducking his head slightly, Loki nodded. "I'm sure it's all that character building nonsense that people talk about." 

The Grandmaster squeezed his hand but Loki didn't feel comforted by the gesture. He still felt discomfited somehow, as if none of his lies would ever be good enough to truly fool the Grandmaster, as if the Grandmaster was far too old to fall for some of his tricks. Thanos and the Black Order thought themselves fearsome and terrible, strong and ruthless. It was a straightforward kind of evil, one he could navigate with ease compared to this. This game was an entirely different board, and he hated it already. 

"What about you?" Loki asked, giving him a confident smile. "What is your history all about?"

Stroking his hand, the Grandmaster gave him a sensual smile. "Quite direct, aren't you?"

Loki sputtered. "I have no idea what you mean."

Instead of being insulted, the Grandmaster looked almost delighted. "You poor thing, fighting for your life, the destruction of your world and all of your dreams... Have you ever experienced any pleasures in your life?" 

There had been Olenna in the pleasure palaces of Asgard, the wonders and graces of Metian as part of the Hies family, the feeling of belonging. Perhaps he could even count the sight of others believing his lies as truths. That had been safety, that had been survival. 

Obviously, he had taken far too long pondering his answer, for the Grandmaster's expression shifted. Instinctually, Loki flinched back, expecting to be struck. That caused another shift in the Grandmaster's expression, this time to a caring and wonder-filled one. "My dear boy, hasn't there been _any_ kindness in your life?"

Pity usually burned, but that seemed to be an acceptable ploy here. Weakness, not strength, would lead to survival here. 

"There were so few willing to aid me," Loki murmured, dipping his chin down. It was a more feminine mannerism, one he had used on Metian more than on Asgard or Thanos' training hell worlds. "I often had to fend for myself."

Stroking his hand again, the Grandmaster smiled magnanimously. "Then your fortunes have finally changed for the better. You've found me, and I will help you. Your plight breaks my precious heart. All should know some kind of joy and pleasure in life. You're far too pretty to do without."

Loki blinked in surprise, then ducked his chin slightly to transform it into a coy gesture. Did the Grandmaster plan to seduce him _now?_

"I could never repay your generosity." 

Still stroking his hand, the Grandmaster's eyes traced the lines of Loki's lips. "Don't worry your pretty little head, my darling prince. You're on Sakaar now, and I take care of all my possessions." 

Oh dear, the Grandmaster _was_ going to seduce him. And clearly, Loki would have to let him. As much as the Grandmaster would want the seduction to happen _now,_ this would have to be a long game. Loki had no doubt that the Grandmaster would be ruthless if he ever grew bored with Loki. 

So he was now to be the lost ingenue prince, slowly corrupted by his hedonist savior. Loki would be given sumptuous belongings, exquisite clothes, and delicate foods meant to tease the palate and delight the senses. Norns, that almost didn't sound like a bad idea at all, and would be the easiest role he had played by far.

***

Loki's new quarters were far larger than his Black Order accommodations, but smaller than his former Asgardian ones. He didn't mind it, and didn't like expansive spaces any longer. It was too much now, too open, too empty. For an impossible moment seeing his new room, he thought he was back on Metian, in his suite near Faelan's. He almost expected to see the sheer white nightgown with lace edging, the silk and brocade robe hanging over the back of a chair waiting to be put on so he could walk through marble halls.

Instead, this room was the one an attendant had brought him to after the meeting with the Grandmaster. It had stark white walls with red accents along the baseboards and ceiling, with zigzag patterns on the wall. It matched the decor of the rest of the halls, and made Loki wonder if those were the Grandmaster's favorite colors. It seemed too bright, too garish, and wasn't Loki's style at all. The bed was certainly large enough and comfortable, able to accommodate his height easily. He found himself drawn to it, pressing his fingers against the coverlet. It was soft, almost fuzzy like fur, and was definitely a pleasing texture. The coverlet was white as well, but less of the flat white of the walls and more of a softer cream. That was less harsh to his eye, and he appreciated the feel of it beneath his hands.

The pillows were done in a red and gold brocade, rougher to the touch and too hard to comfortably lay on. They were definitely decorative, and showy in the same way the Grandmaster's colorful robes and facepaint were. Loki could appreciate the craftsmanship involved in making them, even if he didn't actually like them. There were shelves and a closet open to the main room, no doors. Out of curiosity he peered inside the closet, then in the drawers of the dressers against the wall. Each was empty, so he looked to the attendant still standing at the door.

"Is there a tailor I may visit?"

"We are awaiting his lordship's personal tailor," the attendant announced, voice resonant and deeper than expected for the svelte frame. The attendant had pink skin, golden hair and black eyes, wearing long robes that obscured whatever distinctive body features that might have indicated gender.

"I see," Loki murmured, leaving the furniture behind to approach the attendant. "Are you to help me learn more about this place?" The attendant's chin dipped slightly, perhaps a yes. "I am Loki. What should I call you?"

"I am Ochre, Servitor 297."

Loki frowned at the attendant. "What does that mean?"

"All in service of the Grandmaster can have a personal name, of course, but are referred to by rank and number."

"So you're Servitor two-nine..."

"Two-nine-seven."

"If I may ask, what race are you? I am unfamiliar with your people despite my travels."

"I am one of the survivors of Eting," the Servitor said, a fact that told Loki nothing, and the confusion showed on his face. "My homeworld is in a different kind of area than this. The Mad Titan had come, and our forces were decimated."

Loki's breath caught at the reference to Thanos. "My deep condolences for your homeworld," he murmured. "The losses must have been devastating."

"Some remained there, most fled. I am such a one, and have remained here as a Servitor. It is an accommodating position in the household."

"It is? In what way?"

Ochre shot Loki a knowing smile. "Obtaining the notice of those in power is... an edged boon. But the highest of the high never truly notice the lowest of the low. And as a Servitor, this is what I am. So my being is kept safe, the physical status untouched."

Pausing, Loki considered Ochre. "You don't enjoy physical pleasures. Or having a gender."

The Servitor nodded. "Of course such things are necessary to perpetuate a species. I have no intent in doing such things, though my people are few."

"I wish you luck with those endeavors, then," Loki offered.

"My thanks. I hope that you find what you seek, Loki. Not all attention is good attention, after all."

With that, Ochre left the room. Maybe there could be other questions to ask about the tower or what the Grandmaster was like. However, the term _edged boon_ probably said it all.

And it was a moot point when the tailor was arriving, anyway. The figure was lithe, with pale yellow skin, black hair, feminine lips and an aquiline nose, breast buds and an Adam's apple, and powerfully built muscles as they dragged a large kit through the door. Their body was easy to see in the form fitting navy blue bodysuit, white piping along each leg only accentuating the thin frame. The rolling kit had swaths of fabrics, trimmings, tools that Loki couldn't recognize and a number of tools that reminded him of Asgardian ones. A host of tools on Asgard had been deliberately archaic, allowing tailors to put together garments with a personal touch, and to bond with their clients.

This tailor had no such desire to bond with Loki. One of the devices scanned his body and posture, then the tailor began to lay out a number of fabrics. They gestured toward the fabrics, not making any effort to speak. 

"I find this very odd," Loki said into the silence. "The times I had seen tailors in the past, they all spoke. Or measured me, most importantly." 

"Oh, but Duke doesn't have a tongue anymore," the Grandmaster drawled, entering Loki's room. There was a little gleam in his eye that seemed almost predatory, almost malicious. Loki felt his internal alarm sound, and he straightened. 

"Duke," Loki murmured, looking at the tailor. He nodded, unsmiling, and again pointed toward the fabrics and trimmings in his kit.

"Short for whatever his name used to be," the Grandmaster said with a dismissive wave. "He's transformed some since coming to Sakaar, for sure, all in interesting ways. He's still quite the tailor, so we can't lose that." 

Loki swung his gaze back to Duke, who stood there with a practiced bland expression on his face.

 _Edged boon_ indeed.

"Ah. Well," Loki began, flustered by what the Grandmaster was doing in his new quarters. "I'm sure Duke and I can communicate well enough, then. No need for you to translate." 

"Oh? Are you shy?" 

He thought perhaps this would be a challenge the Grandmaster would enjoy, but that predatory gaze was far too disconcerting at the moment. "I would think a tailoring session would be beneath your personal attention." 

The Grandmaster laughed. "Oh, no. I enjoy all kinds of experiences, I told you. And this will be new for you, right? So I can see it through your eyes."

Licking his lips nervously, Loki managed not to sigh. "Well... This is still an intensely personal thing to be doing."

"You _are_ shy!" the Grandmaster chortled, eyes alight with pleasure. The menace was gone for the moment, but Loki knew there was no guarantee that it wouldn't return. The Grandmaster clapped in delight. "No shame to admit such a thing. Many worlds are so inhibited, after all. No need to feel ashamed of your body, Loki."

He swallowed, a spike of nervousness and anxiety rising in his gut. The Grandmaster didn't know about him, the extreme discomfort and displeasure he had with his body. It was wrong, after all. This body didn't reflect his actual self, but no one else knew that.

A concerned expression came over the Grandmaster at Loki's uncomfortable pause. "Oh, my darling Loki," he said in a soothing tone. He enveloped Loki in a hug, no groping or awkwardness. His robes were soft and perfumed, leading to a cloud of bergamot and spices. It was soothing, and Loki felt himself relaxing into the hug and responding to it.

"Hey, hey," the Grandmaster soothed. "It's overwhelming for you. I see that. How's this?" He pulled back and gave Loki a generous smile. "I'll take what you've got there, get it all cleaned up. Then you'll be alone with Duke, can get all comfortable. We can discuss things later."

"This is a generous offer," Loki began hesitantly, "but this is all I have." His voice broke in spite of himself and his breath hitched in his chest.

By the Tree, he was breaking himself.

The Grandmaster grasped his hands tightly. "Enough said for now, yes?" He gave Loki a magnanimous smile and squeezed his hands. "We'll talk later." With a wink, he swept out of the room in a swirl of scented robes. 

Loki and Duke stared at each other for a while, then he plopped down in a chair. "Can we start again, please? Not for his sake, but for mine?" 

Duke actually looked relieved and far less tense as he eagerly smiled. Opening a drawer, he set out a silk robe of light blue and white, swirls and lines in an abstract, almost floral pattern. Loki was definitely relieved to see it. "I suppose it was obvious that I didn't want to be looked at." Duke nodded, then opened another drawer with a sketchbook. He sat down near Loki and extended it to him. "Am I in trouble?" he asked in a small, almost childish voice. Later, he would cringe at the vulnerability he was displaying so openly, but at the moment he felt safe enough to show it to Duke.

He opened the sketchbook as he shook his head. Many of the sketches were of flowing robes like the Grandmaster's, some were built more like armor. Loki reached out to touch those pages, and Duke caught his wrist, shaking his head firmly. 

"You were told what to make?" Nod. "Could I ask for something like this? Protection?" 

Duke seemed to contemplate that, and let go of Loki's wrist. Grasping his hand, Duke flipped pages in the book until he got to one of several covered in cramped, angular writing. The one Duke offered him stated that the Grandmaster had plans for him, and upsetting them tended to make bad things happen in response. There were smarter ways to go about making changes, and he would have to be careful. 

Apparently, this wasn't the first time Duke had been called in to clothe potential lovers. 

Then, just as Loki finished reading, Duke reached up to touch his face. Startled, Loki sat very still as Duke gently traced his cheekbones and then the outline of his lower lip. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, making it obvious he was far older than Loki originally thought. He then opened his mouth, exposing the ruined mass of muscle left where his tongue had been ripped out. Duke then patted Loki's lips again, and turned the page. 

"Be careful how I speak to him." Nod. "Keep my thoughts to myself?" Loki guessed. Another nod. 

Loki grasped Duke's rough, worn hands. "Have I gotten into trouble yet? Have I made a terrible mistake?" he asked. 

His gaze was troubled, and Duke lifted a stylus to write in that same cramped writing of the previous note on another page that wasn't covered in scribbles.

 _He likes to save, savor, experience. Give him that, he stays happy. He cannot lose, cannot be less than everything._

Exactly what Loki had purported to be, the Grandmaster was. 

_Some assistants may help you, but cannot place themselves at risk. You hold power, we do not._

With a sigh, Loki nodded. "I understand. Thank you." 

Patting his hand in understanding, Duke flipped the pages back into the drawings of robes. "I can get rid of that for you."

Duke firmly shook his head and tapped the pages of drawings. That seemed to indicate that he had his own way of disposing unwanted things, and Loki could only hope that it would keep him safe. He didn't know enough about this fortress to begin to guess at how Duke could do it.

Loki was able to point to aspects of designs that he liked, which ones he didn't. Without consciously realizing it, he was recreating some of the robes he once wore on Metian as his female self, his true self. There was no taking back, not when Duke clearly looked overjoyed to be creating them for Loki. The embroidery and other embellishments would take some skill, after all, and it would be just the thing to showcase his talents. Duke was also glad enough to create something like Loki's armor, gold and green and reinforced, plates of armor to be inserted once Duke created them. Loki hoped he would get back his original armor, but at least he would have backup in case the Grandmaster refused to give it back. Loki would do the spellwork himself in secret, but he knew how to keep himself safe.

He focused on this and not the thought of the Grandmaster hovering over him all the while he'd wear it. Loki was the shiny new toy to play with, and his safety would depend on maintaining that interest, a siren luring in prey.

Why did he keep falling into these situations?

***

Dinner was a grand affair along a long dining room table that would have fit in on Asgard. It was a solid slab of gold and silver veined white marble, worked to a polished shine. The slab rested on a frame of some kind of metal that absorbed sound when struck; Loki discovered this when his knee accidentally struck a table leg as he was pushed into place at the Grandmaster's left. Topaz was at the right side, across from Loki, and she glared at him every time he tried to speak to Grandmaster. Because of his novelty, that was often indeed. It was easier to just pretend Topaz didn't exist, smiling for the few guests and the Grandmaster. Loki told himself this was more like putting his battle acumen on display for the Other and Gamora. Diplomacy was certainly a battle of a different sort, the kind of skill he had excelled at despite the awful derision it had earned him.

In the Grandmaster's defense, the food was as sumptuous and delicately flavored as Loki would expect from the level of decadence that the Grandmaster usually had. It was all finely plated, each morsel crafted into clever and delightful shapes so that it pleased the eye before the palate. The drinks were in crystal goblets shot with veined colors, a psychedelic cacophony of hues that somehow seemed to work in combination with the different dishes placed at the table. Only one end of the long table was actually populated, but the entire surface was covered in the carefully prepared dishes.

"Is this all for us?" Loki asked, doubt evident in his voice. "This is more than what a dozen men can eat." Even Volstagg's mighty appetite would have been fulfilled at this table, and that was a rare event on Asgard.

The Grandmaster laughed. "You think me terribly wasteful, don't you?" He leaned in close, that almost predatory gaze in his eyes again. It was uncomfortable, but Loki shrugged it off as he'd shrugged off everything else.

"Well, hungry as I am, I couldn't finish even a dozenth of this."

"The people of the palace feast after us, I promise," the Grandmaster said with a smile and his grand, expansive gestures. Topaz glowered harder at that, so Loki couldn't tell if the claim was true or not.

"You truly are generous and benevolent," Loki told him, raising his glass. He had no idea as to its contents, but it was sweet and slid down his throat easily. No burn of alcohol as far as he could tell, so he was probably safe. 

"I told you I was!" the Grandmaster chortled gaily. "A most wonderful benefactor for you."

"Yes," Loki nodded, raising his glass again. "I am so lucky to have fallen here. The Void of space is dark and dangerous."

Shit, he hadn't meant to mention the Void. He hurriedly drank from his glass as the Grandmaster laughed again. He was certainly a happy man, but it was easy to be so when an entire planet ran according to his whims and no one ever dared cross him. 

"So much falls to this world," the Grandmaster said, for a moment actually looking serious and thoughtful rather than predatory. "So many lost souls. They all find their way here, to their new home, into my loving arms." 

Topaz rolled her eyes so hard, Loki was surprised that they didn't simply fall out of her head.

"I give them a home, a purpose, a source of life and wonder and joy." He grinned broadly, then leaned in across the corner of the table toward Loki. "I want you to feel this way, Loki. You're a darling thing, so new to the world, to the universe. There are such opportunities here. Such pleasures waiting to be experienced, shared, repeated."

Loki blinked, feeling an odd ache in his chest build. He knew that feeling, the longing to feel part of something greater. Belonging. Love. Acceptance.

"It's such a rare thing," he was saying, voice rasping and raw. He hadn't meant to say that, either.

"The universe can be a cruel place," the Grandmaster argued solemnly. "It's why I built my haven, why I offer refuge to all who stay here."

One of the other guests clinked his glass as if making a toast, and several nodded their assent. The noise seemed too loud, and Loki felt the room tilt dangerously around him. He was probably hyperventilating. Nerves. Last minute cold feet.

No, this was his plan. He had to stick to the plan.

"How do people find their place here?" Loki asked, unable to keep the longing from his voice or his body from leaning toward the Grandmaster.

He reached up and cupped Loki's cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing the bottom edge of his lip. "You're so new, so untested, aren't you? Best to be gentle," he murmured, more to himself than to Loki. It seemed an odd statement in that moment. 

The meaning hit him after a delay. Oh dear Tree of All Realms, the Grandmaster truly would seduce him, was starting at this very moment. This role of lost ingenue, on some levels too close to home, was truly reeling him in. Loki would be safe with his ruse, at the cost of his body. It was probably worth it, this body didn't feel like his own anyway. The body could belong to the Grandmaster, then, and perhaps some pleasure could be eked out of it. Loki was tired of pain, tired of the ache and burn that the body gave him. 

The soft kiss against his lips was expected as it was unexpected. It tasted of the sweet juice in the glasses, the delicately wrought foods plated so carefully for him. The Grandmaster's hand slid down the side of Lokis' neck, thumb tracing down to his pulse point. It was racing he knew, and by the Grandmaster's smile against his lips, he knew it as well. 

"Let me teach you." 

Own you. It would be more correct to say that the Grandmaster would own him. He would want body and soul, but all he could have was the body. Loki didn't want it, anyway.

"How do I become your student?" Loki asked, knowing he was definitely sealing his fate. No backing out now. No regrets. The path was locked in, set to the Grandmaster's diamond will.

"We've already begun," the Grandmaster said, pulling back slightly. His smile was sensual, promising far more than what Loki had experienced thus far.

His eyes were still dark and predatory, menace beneath the silken promises of pleasure. Everything would be at his whims, his direction.

Veins like ice, Loki forced a smile. "What if I don't like something?"

"You will," the Grandmaster promised. It didn't give Loki any more confidence. "I'll make sure of it."

Before Loki could answer, the Grandmaster kissed him again. It was the gentle kiss like before, the enticing touch to lure him in. That had Loki leaning into it, his hands on the Grandmaster's chest, fistfuls of robes helping to keep his balance so he didn't fall out of the chair. Maybe he made a noise of pleasure, like the ones he used to wring out of Olenna at the Asgardian pleasure palaces. That was enough encouragement for the Grandmaster to deepen the kiss, pressing harder and more insistently against his mouth. Loki gasped at that, the chill threat of pleasure. Then the Grandmaster thrust his tongue into Loki's mouth, possessive and dangerous, sending a hot thrill shooting between Loki's legs.

The pleasures would be there, if only he gave in. If he did everything the Grandmaster wanted, if he followed suit and was the toy that he had to be. That would be his place here, as long as the Grandmaster wanted him, as long as he wasn't boring, as long as he pleased the most difficult to please.

Loki wanted to weep, and struggled to catch his breath when the Grandmaster let him go. The room definitely swam around him, and he grasped the table to remain upright. It didn't matter that Topaz looked on in resigned disgust, that the others at the table seemed vaguely uncomfortable and sympathetic toward Loki. Perhaps they were former playthings, other lovers discarded now that interest had waned and they were no longer new. 

The Grandmaster grasped Loki by the back of his neck and pulled him in close, an intimate gesture in front of everyone. "I can begin tonight," he purred, all assurance and confidence in his posture. He leaned in, pulling Loki even closer. "Your room. Such things I can teach you," he said, tongue darting out to lick Loki's ear. He couldn't pull away; the grip on his neck was too tight, and Loki couldn't move. Panic bubbled up in Loki's chest, sharp and bright and painful, and there was no way for the Grandmaster to miss it. Loki was trying to pull away, trying to limit his contact, trying to provide distance.

There would be none.

"Tonight," the Grandmaster ordered. Another lick at his ear, and Loki shivered in the older man's grasp. "I will find you, and we'll begin with your lessons."

"But..."

"No time like the present," the Grandmaster declared in a pleased tone of voice. The underlying steel was unmistakable, and there would be no begging off of this path. Tonight it would begin, and he was not allowed to be shy, hesitant or prudish, not in the Grandmaster's presence. It would be all according to his demands, all to his specifications.

He seemed to delight in the internal struggle, the obvious "no" that he wanted to say but clearly couldn't. Loki couldn't even say "wait," not if he wanted comfort, grace, funds and things that he could call his own.

Loki was to be a kept pet, and he had to say yes.

"Of course," Loki said, voice trembling slightly. It was on purpose, he wanted to tell himself. An ingenue might have some ideas of sex, but would have no idea what to do. His persona would be nervous, maybe excited, too. The anticipation would be torture.

Smiling widely, the Grandmaster ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his teeth, as if anticipating the most tasty and delightful of treats.

Everything else on Loki's plate tasted like dust and ashes.

***

Loki staggered down the hallway, confused by his surroundings. If not for the Grandmaster supporting his weight with an indulgent smile, he would have fallen. He tried asking where they were going, but it was difficult to string the words together. HIs thoughts were muddy, lights too bright around them, and he swore that the walls were melting or bleeding.

"Did you drug me?" Loki asked the Grandmaster as they staggered down the hall, voice slurring slightly. At least he could get those words together. 

"Now why would you ask me that?" he asked, chiding Loki for being suspicious.

"I'm about to fall over. Hardly fair or sporting." He frowned at the Grandmaster's innocent expression. "You wanted to seduce me."

"Oh, you want that, too."

"Not drugged," Loki protested.

"This just allows you to feel everything more intensely. It takes away inhibitions," the Grandmaster soothed. Still, fear spiked in Loki's chest. 

"Not this way," Loki insisted. It took more effort than usual to stop his feet from moving, to stand still. "This doesn't feel right. It's making me ill."

That gave the Grandmaster pause. "Mmm. Can't have that. Illness spoils the fun. And I don't like it."

"If anything happens between us--"

"Oh, it certainly will," the Grandmaster intoned.

"--I want to be fully aware of it. Don't taint the experience for me, please," Loki said, voice trembling. He was out of control, maybe had never been in control, but this was so much worse. This made his mind feel foreign to him, not just his body, and the awkwardness truly made him feel nauseous.

The Grandmaster considered the words. "Others had enjoyed themselves more this way."

Loki grasped his arm painfully tight, but the Grandmaster didn't wince. He gave Loki's hand a pointed glance, one that likely would have had Servitors or Duke scurrying in a panic. Loki hardly noticed it in his rising panic. "Please. This is all too new, I can't... This is _wrong,_ this doesn't feel right, it's tainted. That'll spoil everything."

For a moment, the Grandmaster merely looked at him, then he carefully peeled off Loki's fingers. "You mean it, don't you?" he mused. "You truly believe this will spoil our pleasures. And you do truly want me, and want me pleased with you, hm?"

"This..." Loki's head spun dangerously, making it harder to think properly. "It has to be _right,_ doesn't it?"

The Grandmaster chuckled, and tugged Loki along. "You're such an innocent, I don't think I realized how much."

"What? Why?"

"Are you the kind that needs love, Loki?" the Grandmaster purred. The hallways moved in a blur, and Loki was too dizzy to register them. He clung to the Grandmaster for balance, feeling very much the innocent fool he was pretending to be.

"That's the way of it..." Loki whimpered.

"No, no, you shy little thing. My pretty boy--"

 _"Don't call me that!"_ Loki nearly shrieked.

The Grandmaster stopped and looked at him curiously. "What? Pretty?"

"Boy. I am no boy."

Part of Loki was horrified to be revealing this closely guarded secret, but another didn't care about it anymore. Let it out, let the truth be free. Flay his flesh from his bones until the truth was carved out for all to see.

"Darling Loki," the Grandmaster purred. "I mean no insult. I'm older than time itself, nearly, so all of you are so much younger than I am, like children."

Dear Yggdrasil, that made it sound so much worse.

Loki swayed on his feet when he shook his head. "I am no boy," he repeated as firmly as he could.

"Pretty thing," the Grandmaster offered, stepping closer to him. Loki stepped back, trembling. _Thing_ hurt too much as well. "Pretty, darling creature," he purred, following Loki until his back was to the wall. "You're mine to play with," he continued in that seductive tone. "You see, you and I, we're going to fuck. I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to enjoy it, and you're going to come." He had his body pressed against Loki's, a leg trapped between his. Loki had to feel the Grandmaster's erection against him, even as the Grandmaster could feel his own rising. "We're going to experience so much, you and I, so much pleasure. Don't fight it, and let me show you how it can be." 

Loki caught the Grandmaster's robes in his fists. "I want to feel it for real, not like this." 

"I can give you that," the Grandmaster said magnanimously. His dark eyes glittered almost malevolently after that, the bright blue liner doing nothing to soften the quiet menace of his gaze. "You will be mine, in my bed, or I'm in yours. You will not deny me this. You will not tease me."

"I would never," Loki began to protest, jerking in his arms.

Pressing a finger against his lips, the Grandmaster hushed him and ground his hips against Loki. "I see now how inexperienced you are. I thought it a trick. That you're simply playing at virginity." The Grandmaster's hips ground harder, making Loki groan at the friction. "But your inhibitions are gone now, and you're clinging to this. So it's real, not just an act. I can let you feel my cock enter you. You'll taste me down your throat. You'll learn how to please me, pretty darling," the Grandmaster continued, hands on Loki's hips as he ground against him on the wall, Loki clinging to him for dear life. "I know I'll please you. I know I'll make you come."

Moaning, Loki buried his face in the crook of the Grandmaster's neck, breathing in the scent of him and panting. "Oh. _Oh._ "

"Let me teach you," the Grandmaster crooned, still thrusting against him. "I'll take your virgin's body, expose you to all the pleasures of the flesh. Dinner was just the start. That was nothing. _This_ is nothing," he grunted, his hips snapping and his own breathing was harsh and ragged. "We'll fuck. We'll fuck _hard_ with toys and friends and those in my command." His thrusting grew faster, frenzied, and Loki gasped at the intensity of his gaze. "Give yourself to me, Loki. You are _mine,_ and I protect what's mine. I keep what's mine. You will _never_ be scared again." 

He clearly believed it, coming into his robes without an ounce of embarrassment or self consciousness. Loki _was_ scared of him, of what he'd gotten himself into, of the strong hands at his hips and the lull of his voice. It would be easy to be the Grandmaster's plaything, to let the drugs numb him, to erase his truth, erase his past, let all of his former desires die. But the drugs were doing their job too well. His hips snapped as he thrust against the Grandmaster, clinging to him and gasping as he sought his release. His cock ached as it rubbed against the Grandmaster, and maybe it wouldn't be terrible to get it over with. The Grandmaster would fuck him, and he could give up control. Dear Yggdrasil, that alone was almost tempting, and he came himself with a strangled, muffled cry. 

The Grandmaster cradled him like a child when Loki shivered, his body feeling molten and boneless. "This is just the beginning, my pretty darling," he purred. 

Loki languidly picked his head up, flushed and lips bitten from muffling his cries. "Do you promise?" he asked, voice rasping. 

Kissing him tenderly in answer, the Grandmaster grinned. "Certainly." 

The Grandmaster picked him up in his arms, cradling Loki to his chest as if he truly was a small boy. "You gave yourself to me, walked right up to my door and gave yourself as the greatest gift. Of course I would treasure that. Of course, my darling, my beautiful, pretty darling. This is only the beginning, and there is so much more to experience."

The promise was comforting and menacing at once.

***

Loki shivered in barely suppressed terror at the sight of himself in the robes that the Grandmaster wanted him to wear. He'd pushed off the actual fucking for days, but these robes indicated that the delay was at an end. Oh, they were beautiful and flowing, teal blue and gold such as his dear mother Frigga wore. No, not mother, he had to harden his heart to her even as he longed for her in this moment. The robes remained loose on his frame, much as the Grandmaster's were, with a tunic in teal that clung to his chest and arms. The gold thread used for the embroidery was spun from the real thing, he could feel it against his fingers. The wide legged trousers were gold and had the teal blue as embroidery. They were loose, with little keeping them on his waist other than a drawstring and whatever knot he could make.

This was clothing designed to be removed rapidly and easily.

There was no way in all the Nine Realms and the world of the Void that Loki could escape the Grandmaster's attention. Oh, he'd be wined and dined, flattered and cosseted as part of the seduction. It would be pleasurable, gentle perhaps to suit the virginal persona that Loki had set forth. He'd have fun, he would enjoy it, he would likely beg for more before the night was through.

But at no point would he _ever_ have the option to say no. The Grandmaster had made that clear, and he knew it was a condition of his stay.

He looked at himself, shaking, face schooled into indifference. That was better than abject fear.

This would be the night, he knew it. He couldn't delay the inevitable any longer.

Loki's thoughts strayed to Olenna of the pleasure palace on Asgard. Had she or her sisters in the profession ever felt like this? Had they felt powerless to the appetites of powerful men? Loki had never forced Olenna, never coerced her. But what if the same could not be said of the other women there? What if they felt sacrificed like this?

His thoughts circled around in this manner as he met with the Grandmaster in the outer room of the suite. He hadn't forced Olenna, had never threatened her with the power of his station. If nothing happened between them, he would've walked away. Did she ever fear he would change his mind about her? That he was lying about his love for her?

No, she couldn't think the worst of him that way. He was better than that. Others that visited the pleasure house might have been cruel, and she never talked about them.

It was a horrid, sickening knowledge he couldn't erase.

"You're beautiful," the Grandmaster murmured, walking around him with slow, measured steps. He was examining his purchase, judging if this had all been worth the effort. The Grandmaster tugged his hand and brought him toward the elegant gilt framed mirror on the wall. He met Loki's gaze in the mirror as he licked his lips in anticipation. His hands ran down Loki's arms, and he dropped his chin to Loki's shoulder. Heavy rings glinted on his carefully manicured fingers, each nail painted a very light blue, almost white. Loki thought it looked rather like the color of pale, bleached bone.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"Nervous?" the Grandmaster asked Loki. Was that an amused glance in his eyes?

Loki nodded. Nervous seemed better than _utterly fucking terrified_. 

"Don't be," the Grandmaster purred, then turned his head slightly to lick the edge of Loki's ear. "I know this is difficult for you."

And likely a new experience for the Grandmaster. The Nine Realms would all know how much he enjoyed _those_.

Letting out a breath, Loki shot him a pained yet eager smile. "It's... It feels like a lot of pressure. To be good for you."

"Oh, darling," the Grandmaster chuckled. "No pressure at all. That sours the pleasures. You can't feel it for yourself if you're too busy worrying about pleasing _me_. That's why the wine the other night." Another lick along Loki's ear as he began to run one hand possessively over Loki's belly. "Lower inhibitions means so much less worry. No need for those pesky things."

"It kept me alive so far."

"So grateful for that," the Grandmaster purred, rubbing Loki's belly. "But don't feel under any pressure to survive here. You're mine. I'll care for you. Just like everyone else here."

Loki was a possession in a gilded cage, and he locked himself in it.

Tears blurred his vision, and Loki took one hand to cover the Grandmaster's. The other reached behind him to cup the back of the older man's head. "It's hard to let go. I'm trying."

"Oh, I know, my precious one."

It would be easy to shut his eyes, not think of the past, let it all happen. Become the person he claimed to be. Disappear into the pleasures the Grandmaster offered.

He kissed Loki's neck, left hand curling around his throat in a possessive gesture. The Grandmaster's right hand caressed his belly through the fabric, fingers sometimes skimming lower. Loki breathed heavily, his breath fracturing and fingers spasming slightly as his body undulated a little. There were little nonsense sounds both were making, hums of growing pleasure and contentment. This wasn't necessarily a _bad_ arrangement, after all, just entirely dependent and submissive.

Only when Loki was nearly panting with need did the Grandmaster slide his hand beneath the loosened waistband of the elegant trousers. The touch on his aching cock made him keen and arch back, nails scratching the Grandmaster's scalp. He was pinned in place, Grandmaster's hand still around his throat, lips at his ear and neck, hand wrapped around his cock and pumping him to release. That release couldn't be all the Grandmaster had planned, he knew, and feeling the chill air reach his legs as well as his bared genitals made him open his eyes.

"My dear," the Grandmaster crooned, patently false and trying to be charming, "You're all sticky and dirty. We'll have to get you cleaned right up."

The robes puddled on the floor next, and that left Loki in only the perfectly embroidered tunic. Even that was being removed, and Loki's languid limbs were like jelly, unable to resist or help. The Grandmaster was taking the choice away from him, giving whatever he wanted, whether or not Loki even wanted to receive it.

Loki thought he'd have to collapse forward, bracing himself on the edge of his bed with his hands against the frame. He made a lost sound deep in his throat, afraid of being even more at the Grandmaster's dubious mercy.

The Grandmaster shed his outer robes and was in his own tunic and trousers, red and white and red and white. The Grandmaster turned Loki around, ending that one fearful image on Loki's mind, but that didn't calm him much. One hand traced the curve of Loki's jaw, the other the planes of his chest and belly. "Such a beautiful creature you are, fallen to my planet like an angel. Can I call you that?" he asked, fingers reaching up to rub a nipple.

"Ah..." Loki's breath caught. "Can't say I've ever been called an angel before."

"Then you'll be my angel," the Grandmaster said in that soothing tone. "My beautiful angel, my darling angel, my beloved angel."

Despite the tension and near terror still coiling in Loki's belly, a warmth spread through him as well, a desire between his legs and a wish that this could actually be true. The Grandmaster smiled when his cock jumped, and he used both hands to rub Loki's nipples. "So sensitive, hm?" Loki could only nod, breath catching as he reached out to grasp the Grandmaster's shoulders for balance. "So much pleasure we can have together."

Fingers digging in tight, Loki couldn't do much more than moan and nod, not breaking eye contact.

"Imagine how it'll feel skin to skin," the Grandmaster said, voice a throaty purr. "Want that?"

Loki nodded, and couldn't tell if the spike of sensation in his belly was desire or fear.

"Say it. Say it out loud," the Grandmaster demanded, steel beneath that velvety tone.

"I want to feel you," Loki rasped. "Skin to skin," he added when the Grandmaster opened his mouth to speak. "Please."

The tunic was tossed aside without care, never mind that it probably cost an entire scavenger's yearly wage to make. The Grandmaster's hands were on him then, skin to skin, and he kissed Loki with a terrible possessiveness that curled through his gut. He gasped, holding onto the Grandmaster's tunic, red and white and white and red in his fists, stitching like blood running along his palms. He was being tasted from the inside out, tongue running along his, tracing his teeth, drawing the breath out of his lungs. Loki felt weak and malleable, caught within a web and being strangled in it. 

There were lumps within the folds of the Grandmaster's discarded robes, and when the kisses and strokes left Loki feeling even more boneless, he let the Grandmaster lean him back onto the bed. The comforter was soft and lush beneath him, a welcome sensation along his skin. He reveled in the sensation as the Grandmaster went to retrieve whatever the lumps were, so he was a little startled to feel the Grandmaster grasp his wrist when he returned. "Uh..."

Laughing in a gently mocking manner, the Grandmaster began to strap his wrists to the headboard. The straps were soft and didn't have much give at all. He tugged on it, frowning a bit. "What's this all about?" Loki asked, curiously giving the restraint another tug.

"This is so you simply feel everything. I want you to experience it all," the Grandmaster said, running his hands down Loki's chest. "Later we can play in all kinds of other ways, hm?"

The lube was cold when pressed against Loki's rear opening, and his breath caught. Olenna had fucked him this way, but it had been such an emotionally rough time for him that he hadn't even treasured the contact with her. The Grandmaster took his time working Loki open, his other hand running along his stomach or thighs, occasionally brushing his cock to increase the pleasure he was feeling. Loki made whining noises deep in his throat, tugging at the restraints or twisting beneath the Grandmaster's hands. The Grandmaster's fingers crooked inside him, stroking him in rhythmic motions. He made little murmuring, soothing sounds, a steady counterpoint to Loki's whines and cries, keeping him pinned as he bucked his hips and tried to shift them so the Grandmaster would drive his fingers deeper.

Withdrawing his fingers when Loki was on the edge of coming again, the Grandmaster openly laughed at the way he twisted and writhed, begging for more. The Grandmaster coated his cock liberally with lube, and adjusted Loki's legs so that they were curled up, nearly folding him in half. He lined up his cock with Loki's hole and eased in slowly, humming in pleasure all the while. Loki groaned, pulling at the restraints as he cried out at the sensation of being filled. Waves of pleasure rolled through him, and he nearly sobbed with it.

The Grandmaster picked up speed soon enough, making Loki cry out and pull at the restraints desperately. They were strong, as was the Grandmaster's grip on his hips. Loki tried to wrap his legs around the Grandmaster's waist, pushing at him with his heels to make him thrust deeper. The Grandmaster wouldn't be denied, and kept his pace. It was punishing and intense, leaving Loki sweaty, panting and writhing beneath him even after Loki came, spilling all over his own body.

Finally, the Grandmaster eased up, his own release deep inside of Loki. He chuckled at the messy state of him, how loose and long limbed he was. Releasing the restraints, the Grandmaster put on his outer robe. At the questioning noise Loki made, he blew a kiss. "So many things to do, so many things to set up." He shot Loki a fond smile. "I can't decide what I want to do to you next. I think I'll make up a list, then pick one of them at random. That sounds fair, don't you think? After all, there are toys and positions and even my leisure vessel to take for a spin around Sakaar. And that's not even counting all the fun we can have with friends."

Loki frowned at him. "Friends?"

"You haven't lived until you've had one of the Orlagi tentacles sliding inside of every orifice," the Grandmaster crooned. "I want to see your reaction to that, and have my cock in your mouth as they hold you down and take you."

He shivered, and the Grandmaster thought it was anticipation. Licking his lips and raising his eyebrows suggestively, the Grandmaster tied the robe shut at his waist. There was no way to hide that he was well and truly fucked, and everyone in the palace knew that Loki was his latest toy. They all would know what the two had been up to, and Loki would have to deal with the stares and whispers in his wake.

He must have dozed off; Servitor 297 arrived and was already cleaning the room around him. A noise must have woken him, and Loki pushed himself up to a seated position with difficulty. He felt wrung out and sore, sticky with sweat and bodily fluids he didn't want to think about. "Ochre?" he asked, voice rasping.

Ochre stood from where they were scrubbing at the floor. "Ah. You wake."

Loki looked at Ochre with a vulnerable expression. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"The mess." He weakly gestured around the room, then let his hand flop uselessly down onto his lap. "I can't stop anything."

"No, you can't," Ochre agreed solemnly. "The price for your protection."

Shoulders slumping down, Loki nodded and looked at the loose splay of his fingers on the coverlet. "I didn't have too many options."

"Can you bear to be touched now?"

Loki shuddered at Ochre's words. "I need to get clean. I don't think I care much about how that happens at this point."

"Tell me if it's too much," Ochre said, moving toward the attached bathroom. As they ran a bath, Loki pondered those words. Ochre had seen far too much in their time as a Servitor, and had helped clean up after the Grandmaster's messes. Loki wasn't the first ingenue seduced and left behind, and he wouldn't be the last.

Ochre was gentle but matter of fact, with absolutely no lascivious intent. They were all brisk efficiency, reminding Loki of Frigga when he was a child. He missed his mother terribly, and he began to sob. Great wracking sobs shook him, and Ochre gently rubbed Loki's shoulders while making vague soothing sounds. "I'm so alone," Loki sobbed, then looked up at Ochre plaintively. "I don't know if I can do this."

"This is the path you've taken," Ochre told Loki, voice still gentle as they rubbed a spot between his shoulders. "It's too late to change it now. You'll have to serve in this way until the Grandmaster tires of your novelty, and then he'll move on to another to please him."

Something shriveled inside of Loki's gut. He couldn't serve. He was terrible at it, really. Yet he couldn't lead, either. If he was honest with himself, he didn't have the temperament for it. He was too impulsive, too impatient. He sometimes loathed being around other people, and leading others meant he would always be surrounded. The thought of having to interact with people every day, all day, was sickening. He needed time alone. He needed quiet.

Being with the Grandmaster for too long was anything but quiet.

Loki's tears eventually slowed and stopped, and Ochre gently toweled him off. The bruises around his wrists were faint, and he could still feel the ache between his thighs.

"I feel broken," Loki murmured as Ochre slipped a soft silk robe around his shoulders. It was white, with a geometric pattern woven into it. With his hair hung low and loose, for a moment Loki thought he saw his Metian reflection in the mirror. She was safe, at least. No one could hurt that version of Loki. She was locked away where no one could touch her.

Ochre stroked Loki's hair, then reached for a brush when one of their fingers was caught in a snarl. As they brushed Loki's hair in a soothing manner, they made a soft humming noise. "Broken things come here," they said finally. "Most of the time, they can never heal, and they stay broken. Maybe they don't even know they're broken."

"And the ones that do?"

"Have a choice," Ochre said, voice even. "Stay broken or change. And if they change, they have to decide if it's better to stay anyway, or if it's time to leave."

"How do you know what to choose?" Loki whispered, voice fracturing. He was too fragile, too wrung out by memories he would rather forget.

"Often, there are no good choices," Ochre admitted. "But if the pain of staying is greater than the pain of leaving, perhaps it's time to leave."

"I haven't been here that long," Loki began.

"Then to realize it immediately means you're not as broken as you think you are. You're simply tired. Beaten down. Disillusioned."

" _Yes_ ," Loki breathed, turning around to take in Ochre's placid expression. "That's it exactly."

"That's not being broken, Loki. It's being drained empty."

"How do I fill back up, then?"

"That's a process different for everyone. I have no tricks for that."

Loki nodded, and folded his hands quietly in his lap. "What works for you?"

"Building," Ochre said quietly. "Small things out of scraps."

He smiled faintly. "Really?"

"Creating things instead of breaking them down. It's the very opposite of this place."

"I would love to see an example at some point, if it's possible."

Pausing for a moment, Ochre nodded after thinking it over. They cupped Loki's face gently. "Stay alive, Loki. You'll be able to build something of your own soon enough."

Loki could only hope that Ochre had the gift of prophecy. He didn't feel terribly creative at all.

***

The Grandmaster had quite a long list of things he wanted to do to and with Loki. He felt more like a living plaything than a person in the Grandmaster's company. Though he put on a good enough front to smile and kiss and stroke in response, he was retreating into himself. The Grandmaster could push him up against a wall or fuck him over a desk, could hold him down and make him feel pleasure, could fuck his mouth and have him swallow. Loki was shaking with pleasure and fear at once, a combination that no doubt was an aphrodisiac to the Grandmaster.

Others joined in periodically, just as the Grandmaster promised. Different races, different sexes, different genders. The Grandmaster was all about novelty, so the combinations of people and parts never particularly mattered to him. His intent was clearly to reexperience everything all over again with Loki in tow, making it new and fresh. Loki found himself pinned between limbs and mouths and body parts he had no name for. He penetrated and was penetrated, mind coasting in a haze of pleasure and pain meant to heighten that pleasure. At the Grandmaster's behest, he was whipped and tied, clamped and scratched. He learned to do the same to others, marking them just enough to avoid leaving unwanted scars.

Above all else, everything had to be _pretty_. The Grandmaster could never tolerate ugliness in any form, least of all the truth of his own actions. 

Loki was lying on the bed in the Grandmaster's leisure vessel, a tangle of sweaty, sticky limbs over and under him. His hair was haloed around him; someone had tried braiding it prior to him being taken from behind and his mouth pressed up against a woman's slit, but it had come undone with all of the hands grasping his hair and pulling. His aching cock was ridden hard afterward by a different woman, both his hands occupied with pleasuring others as the Grandmaster watched, stroking his own erect cock. Once Loki was spent inside the woman, the Grandmaster lifted her off without warning, slicked Loki's rear and penetrated him. Loki was fucked within an inch of his life, and all he could do was lie there and take it. 

He was a passenger in his own body, watching everyone else around him take advantage. 

He'd sunk so low despite Ochre's kind and encouraging words, and he didn't even have the energy to properly cry about it. Staring at the patterned tile ceiling, tears simply fell down the sides of his face. He was too numb to wipe them away, too exhausted and empty. Perhaps he deserved this. He had hollowed himself out to hide who he truly was, attempted to subjugate an innocent world, and had tried to hoodwink Thanos before attempting to do the same here. Loki was supposed to be a trickster, the God of Lies. 

Now he was caught in his own web of lies, and he truly deserved it. 

"Oh, pretty," one of the women drawled. "The comedown is so hard, isn't it?" She stroked his hair and shifted position next to him. Her skin was a vivid pink, her hair as black as his own. She looked on him kindly, pendulous breasts near his shoulder. When he reached out to pet them as he thought she wanted, she shook her head and caught his hand in hers. "I suppose none of us thought of the aftercare part." She brought his knuckles to her mouth and kissed them gently, almost reverently. "En said that you're new, but I suppose I thought it was new to the scene, not new to _everything_." 

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice rasping and raw from all of his cries. 

"It was so wild, right? All of us together." She smiled fondly at him. "You have such a talented mouth, I thought you did this all the time."

"I've fucked women before."

She grinned. "Oh, yes you have. But I mean, when you went into that space, you were all about the pleasure, the feeling... It's awesome to witness, you know? To be all into it, all there without needing drugs or techniques to warp your mind." She kissed his knuckles again. "I didn't think about it at the time, but it makes sense. After dropping into that space, you need help back out." 

"I still have no idea what you mean."

Pursing her lips, she brought his hand to her cheeks as she thought about how to phrase it. "Okay. If you get so involved with something, anything, really, but I notice especially with sex... It's like a whole other realm of consciousness. Your mind changes. It's hard to explain. You're you, but it's a whole other experience."

Loki nodded and shifted his hand to cup her cheek. He didn't even know her name. "Yes. That sounds quite familiar."

"So then leaving that experience alone? It's scary. It doesn't feel real."

Swallowing, Loki nodded. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted. The Grandmaster certainly hadn't explained the possibility of this in any of his rants about pleasure and letting go of all inhibitions. All he'd talked about were sexual positions, benefits of different drugs or types of alcohols from various planets.

The woman smiled fondly at him and leaned into his touch. "So yeah, you're new to this, and dropping into that headspace means you need help out of it. Because it's scary and weird and going to mess you up for a while."

By the Tree, it all made sense now. Loki wasn't a flawed thing deserving of this mindless state. He was adjusting badly to all of this novelty, the ground constantly knocked out beneath his feet before he could get his bearings. The Grandmaster was exploiting this, and Loki had truly fallen into his role as the awkward ingenue to be corrupted. He had been _too good_ at playing the role, and wasn't able to separate the two.

He pulled her down for a kiss. "Thank you."

She beamed at him, then shifted a few stray body parts out of the way to snuggle in closer. She was all roundness everywhere, thick thighs and a solid torso with folds of flesh he remembered grasping tightly. There weren't bruises that he could see, thankfully. He wouldn't want to mark her or hurt her when she was one of the few in this place actively trying to help him with no ulterior motive. For everyone else, even sex seemed mercenary.

"Want to play?"

When she trailed her fingers across his chest, he shivered. "I think I'm too worn out for sex."

Laughing, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "There are toys and flavored lubes all over the place here, but I get that. Too much of a good thing, right?"

"Just so."

She still trailed her fingers over his chest, stroking lightly. "We're the only ones up, we can still cuddle. I think you liked that."

A warmth spread through him at the words. She noticed him. She cared enough to pay attention to what _he_ wanted, not just her own pleasures.

"I would," he told her with a fond smile, shifting his arm to make room for her.

Fitting her body to his took a few wiggles, but she was warm and soft. Though he was still unpleasantly sticky and sore, and she was rather sticky herself, Loki appreciated the comfort that she was offering him. It felt good to have her tucked up against his body, an arm and leg sprawled over him. This was comfort, no demands, nothing other than what each were willing to give. She smelled of sweat and sex, something Loki still wasn't quite inured to. This was still supposed to be a gift. At least, it had been when he was with Olenna on Asgard. That had been a reverent experience most of the time.

That last time with Olenna had been more like this, come to think of it. Loki had taken mindless pleasure out of the sex act. The two hadn't taken their usual care, and he had simply wanted to be taken. He hadn't wanted to think, only feel. While he trusted Olenna, and loved her, he honestly could have received the same pleasures from any of the royal courtesans. He hadn't cared who was fucking him, as long as someone was.

All of these excursions with the Grandmaster's fuck buddies were like that. Bodies giving and taking pleasure, mind altering substances sometimes enhancing it, but there was never any connection or emotion behind it. There was no care about the future beyond the ever present moment. He was slowly drowning. He was losing sight of himself. He was stuck in a holding pattern, and he had to break free.

Loki needed to get off of Sakaar before he lost the ability to care entirely.

***

The biggest problem Loki saw was that there were no good ways to exit the planet. Leaving the stronghold wasn't difficult, he did it whenever he wanted to stroll through the markets and feel the open air on his face. The Grandmaster thought it was a fun display when he walked about in public with the Grandmaster's emblem pinned to his chestplate if he left in armor, or for him to go out in robes clearly mimicking that of the Grandmaster's. Only he could wear the combination of pure white and red, or his favorite red-blue-yellow combination. Everyone else was stuck in earth tones and muted, dirty colors; the Grandmaster seemed to glory in how pretty and benevolent he would look in comparison to the populace.

Upon his return to the palace, Topaz was there to greet him. She looked downright gleeful, which meant that the Grandmaster was probably angry with him. "You're to report to the Grand Salon," she intoned, eyes practically dancing.

Nodding as though this was an ordinary day, Loki pasted a vapid smile on his face and followed her. The Grand Salon had floors so slick and shiny they were in effect mirrors. One night it had been closed off to outsiders, and the Grandmaster had him strip out of his robes and kneel. He had to look up, candlelight flickering and mirrored in the floor, and knew he was offering himself up to the Grandmaster yet again. His cock had been thick and heavy in Loki's mouth, then inside him as his face was pressed into the floor. The Grandmaster had left bruises on his hips as he fucked him hard, Loki's fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface to keep from skidding. That had only made the Grandmaster laugh, thinking Loki was desperate for him.

"Shall I kneel?" Loki asked when he saw the Grandmaster seated on the dais. He had his multicolored and layered robes on, so it was impossible to tell if Loki's drawl made his cock jump in anticipation. Getting the Grandmaster off was probably the safest bet right now if he was angry.

By the Void, what was Loki thinking?

The Grandmaster waved off Topaz, whose expression slid into a scowl. She didn't move right away, not until the Grandmaster scowled at her. "He's not going anywhere," he snapped, eyes flashing in irritation. Only then did Topaz leave.

"Oh dear," the Grandmaster sighed. "That rather killed the mood."

"I suppose she thought I was in trouble."

"She wants everyone to be in trouble," the Grandmaster mused. "But her paranoia keeps Sakaar safe, so it all works out in the end."

Loki simply smiled, but fear curdled in his gut. This felt like the same knife's edge he had walked when dealing with the Black Order. Only instead of blood and fighting, all the Grandmaster wanted was his utter capitulation and the ability to ravage his body.

He couldn't decide which was worse.

"You went out today."

Blinking as if he was a simpleton, Loki nodded. "I've done so many times. Was today a special event I didn't know about? I'm sorry if I missed it."

There. Apologizing in advance should save his skin.

Realizing his own thought patterns, Loki folded his hands together in front of him to keep from scratching at his own skin. How had he sunk so low? He shouldn't be kowtowing. He shouldn't be bending over backward like this, afraid of someone else's response. Because that was the truth, as much as he would rather lie to himself about it. He needed to please the Grandmaster for his own survival, and the knowledge of that burned.

"No, no event," the Grandmaster murmured. He gestured for Loki to approach, so he did so as if he didn't fear what would happen next. "I just missed you."

Loki beamed at him as if preening, as if he merely lived to please the Grandmaster and his whims. He leaned into the Grandmaster's open arms and then climbed up into his lap as if it didn't make him feel sick, as if his skin didn't crawl and insides shudder.

The Grandmaster nuzzled his neck and reached inside of Loki's robes. "And to think I found you so lost and alone," he said, lips against Loki's skin. He could feel the graze of teeth and tried to avoid thinking of those teeth sinking down into his flesh. "I have given you a home and purpose, have I not?" he continued, kneading Loki's ass.

Breath catching, Loki hoped the Grandmaster thought it was desire. "You have."

"You wouldn't be thinking of leaving me, would you?"

"That's silly," Loki said, breathless and running his fingers through the Grandmaster's hair. "Is Topaz jealous of what we have?" he laughed. 

The hand on his hand tightened painfully, then loosened. "Well. Perhaps."

"Does she want to join? She's never seemed interested before."

"Heavens, no. She detests sex," the Grandmaster huffed. "But she thinks you're getting ready to leave me, and she's never been wrong about that before."

"You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me," Loki lied, arching his back and pressing his ass into the Grandmaster's hand. "Why should I leave?"

"Why indeed."

Grasping Loki's chin, the Grandmaster kissed him in a possessive clash of lips and teeth that didn't feel like love. No, Loki was a thing. An object of desire. A means to an end. He was a status symbol, the latest young thing on the Grandmaster's arm to make him feel like a benevolent God rather than the conqueror he truly was.

Loki gasped and pressed closer, closing his eyes. His traitorous body was thrumming with the stirrings of desire. Pleasure was pleasure, regardless of the fraught circumstances, even if he wanted to rail and sob, and his cock was a mindless thing begging for release.

Roots and ash, he missed being a woman. It was difficult and dangerous, but it fit him better and he didn't feel the additional drag of traitorous flesh betraying him.

He let the robes be yanked aside so the Grandmaster could fuck his body on the throne and dais, his mind distanced even as he let the cries be wrenched out of him. This was the price of his survival. This was the price of his comfort.

Lying on the mirrored surface afterward, spent and wrung out, sore in body and mind, Loki let the Grandmaster turn him over. His limbs were splayed and loose, hair a tangled mess after being grasped and pulled. He was fucked over every which way, and the Grandmaster looked down upon him in satisfaction. "That's what I like to see," he purred, making Loki shiver.

Rearranging his robes, the Grandmaster heaved a sigh of satisfaction. "There's a dinner party tonight, of course. You'll be there." Not asking. Quietly demanding, as he always did, with the expectation of being followed.

Smiling lazily at the Grandmaster instead of recoiling, Loki reached out and stroked his leg through the robes. "Dignitaries? Or your pleasure seeking friends?"

"Can't they be both?" the Grandmaster asked archly, eyes raking down Loki's sprawled body. He looked to be sizing him up, gauging if Loki could withstand another fucking.

Loki's breathless laughter must have convinced the Grandmaster that he needed rest. "Go on," the Grandmaster said with a dismissive wave as he stepped away. "Rest, bathe, and dress for a decadent evening." His eyes glittered dangerously as Loki pushed himself into a seated position to get his bearing. "I have _plans_ for you and our guests, and it wouldn't do to have them disrupted, would it?"

His breath hitched in his chest as his heart froze. "Of course not," he lied. He tugged on the robes loosely, fingers fumbling with the layers and knots. "You have the best plans."

The Grandmaster beamed. "I do, don't I?"

When alone in his room, Loki sobbed into his pillow and screamed.

***

Dignitaries of various skin colors, races and sexualities were present for the Grandmaster's sumptuous dinner. Loki only discovered the sexualities part when the dinner descended into the orgiastic gathering that the Grandmaster enjoyed so much. Some carried scars from battle, some from surgeries. Some had transformed their bodies in ways that Loki had been afraid to but wished for, and most were rather indiscriminate about who their sexual partner was going to be.

The woman that had comforted Loki on the Grandmaster's leisure vessel wasn't present, and Loki missed her, even though he still didn't know her name.

He was dressed in his most elaborate gowns in gold and green, edged in black and silver. Duke had truly outdone himself with it, and Loki never wanted to give up these robes. They were beautiful and felt like armor, and evoked his feel of the feminine. He needed that, especially when his masculine self felt so weak and broken, tattered and stitched back into all the wrong shapes on this planet. His feminine self, his true self, that was the strong one. That was the unbroken self that he wished he could be.

One day. Someday. _Soon._ He had to find his way back home, to Faelan and his children on Metian. He wanted to watch them grow up, wanted to teach them how to spot the inevitable horrors of people like the Grandmaster, so that his children would never be in the position that Loki found himself now.

Then again, he was also in this position to avoid their destruction. Quite the conundrum.

The Grandmaster actually wanted Loki to cuddle with him afterward, curled up on his body with a few other hangers on. Loki beamed as if this was effusive praise indeed, and listened to the steady thrum of the Grandmaster's heart. It never faltered, but the Grandmaster had nothing to fear. This was his world. Everyone bowed to his wishes.

Outside of his dominion, however... 

"Mmm," he murmured, stroking the Grandmaster's stomach idly. "I'm so pleased to be here, safe and in your arms. To hear the others tell of disruptions and dangers on their worlds..."

"Oh, don't be fooled. It isn't necessarily as dangerous as they say it is," the Grandmaster said dismissively, waving his hand about.

Loki lifted his head to look at him, hair tumbling around his face in soft waves. "It isn't? It sounded terrible," he continued. Perhaps he was laying this on too thick, too much like a simpering woman, but the Grandmaster seemed to eat it right up. 

He stroked Loki's hair, but it felt like the way someone would stroke a pet. "You're safe here."

"Of course. Why would the others be lying? To stay here?"

"They can't stay," the Grandmaster said, waving his hand again.

"What are their worlds like, then? Do you know?" he asked, shifting his body. He was sprawled over the Grandmaster, arms folded on the Grandmaster's chest to pillow his chin. The look he gave the Grandmaster was one of abject adoration.

When the Grandmaster lowered both of his arms on top of Loki's back and smiled at him, Loki knew that his own loyalty wasn't in question.

"You don't trust their word?" the Grandmaster laughed.

"You'll tell me what I need to know."

The Grandmaster laughed, a deep rumble that shook Loki lying on top of him. He stroked Loki's spine, gentle movements of his fingertips. It reminded Loki of Olenna for a painful moment, but he pushed the thought away. His fractured past didn't belong here.

"It wasn't directly affecting their planets, for the most part, so I really don't know why they're so worried," the Grandmaster said, rolling his eyes. "So gravity changes in odd spots on the planet, so what? They still have a planet, right? Most of the gravity is unaffected, and they can learn where the gravity wells are. We did that here."

"Gravity changing is a big deal," Loki murmured, looking at his expression carefully. "Too many would get caught in it, possibly die."

Snorting, the Grandmaster continued stroking his back. "It's not just the gravity issue. That can be worked around. They really complain about reality warping around them," he sighed. "Portals opening and creatures moving through them. Or disappearing," he said, lifting a hand off of Loki's back to make a dismissive wave.

"Even you have to admit that's a big deal. The average planet doesn't have portals or reality changing on a whim."

He snorted again. "What good is it complaining, hm? Traveling between worlds easily is usually a goal that people have. Here it can happen with no effort at all."

It was a callous statement, and Loki felt dread pool deep in his gut. This sounded familiar, and not just because it was similar to all of the Asgard-centric propaganda he had grown up with. "It would matter if they walked through a portal into the middle of a mountain. Or a world of fire."

"So send someone disposable to test them," the Grandmaster replied dismissively.

He'd heard similar rhetoric before, but only now did it really occur to Loki how horrible that was. He was someone disposable now, and might be in that situation if the Grandmaster tired of him. To be honest, Loki saw the Grandmaster's eye wandering more than once during their dinners. Loki wasn't moved away from the left hand seat yet, but he was sure it was only a matter of time. The novelty of him was wearing thin, and he couldn't keep playing an ingenue when the Grandmaster had thoroughly debauched him.

"What else has been happening on these planets?" Loki asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant about random portals and gravity shifts. Those would be devastating events on a planet, and it tugged at his memory. Something about it sounded familiar.

As the Grandmaster described the other planets and the effects that the oddities in gravity would have on them, Loki finally understood. "The Convergence."

That stopped the Grandmaster. "What?"

"There is a phenomenon called the Convergence. Every five thousand years there is an alignment between different linked worlds. Gravity, time, space and even reality itself can be altered and reshaped." He blinked owlishly at the Grandmaster's stare. "I read about it."

He laughed again, not unkindly, but Loki feigned being hurt.

"Oh, darling, you're such an innocent, for all that we've fucked every which way possible."

"I'm sure there are things we haven't tried yet," Loki replied without thinking. He managed not to cringe at the Grandmaster's delighted laughter.

"I've turned my bookish prince into a hedonist. Lovely."

Loki blew out a wistful breath. "I'd like to go see it. The Convergence," he clarified at the Grandmaster's lofted brow. "It only happens every five thousand years, after all."

"That's a short period of time in the history of the universe."

Inspiration struck. "But that's for you. I won't be alive the next time it comes around."

The Grandmaster affected a sorrowful expression. "Don't remind me of mortality, my dear."

"Think I can go see it?" Loki asked, knowing he sounded like a spoiled child.

"There are portals here," the Grandmaster scoffed. "So it's nothing new for you. We've even named ours since they're stable!"

"Really?" Loki asked, making sure to sound interested and awed.

It worked, because the Grandmaster laughed at him. That really shouldn't have stung as much as it did. "Of course. The largest one is the Devil's Anus." He laughed at Loki's incredulous expression. "I thought that was rather poetic."

"Because the devil would have an anus?"

He laughed outright, and one of the other sleeping aliens stirred in their sleep. Loki could see a tentacle shift and slither in his peripheral vision, but didn't spare it a glance. They weren't the important one right now.

"Darling angel," the Grandmaster said, letting his hands run down Loki's spine to cup his ass in a tight grip. "You belong here."

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to learn." He tilted his head to the side and let a few loose tendrils of hair fall over his face. "I thought you liked it when I wanted to learn."

"Learn how to fuck, sure."

Loki couldn't help but roll his eyes, and thankfully it didn't irritate the Grandmaster. "As well as other things, yes? To appreciate all things as they occur."

The Grandmaster's fingers tightened on his flesh, and Loki suppressed a yelp of surprise. "You belong to me. You belong here."

"Of course. But aren't you even curious to see it in person?"

"I've seen it before. It's not as impressive as it sounds. None of those worlds were destroyed when the Convergence happened. Gravity shifted poles, but so what? They still had gravity. Life went on without interruption. It wasn't a big deal."

"This is all new for me, my love," Loki told the Grandmaster, syllables like ashes on his tongue. He felt physically ill.

The Grandmaster didn't seem as amused as he used to be, and only shrugged. "Things stop being new after a time."

Loki nodded, his chin sharp against his forearm. _He_ wasn't as new, wasn't as interesting. What would happen to him here if he stayed? He'd likely be a hanger on, an extra pair of limbs in an orgy, another random orifice to fill and be filled. He'd be nothing, a wisp or shadow ghosting the halls as he waited for attention that might never come.

"I hope that never happens," Loki murmured. "There's so much to learn in the universe. So much out there I've never known, never experienced."

As he hoped, the Grandmaster sighed. "I suppose."

"I can describe it all for you," Loki said, sounding eager and excited. "No point in theorizing why it happens, there are so many books on the topic--"

"Boring," the Grandmaster huffed.

"--but I'm more interested in seeing it. Seeing what it looks like when gravity changes, when worlds invert and twist inside out. It doesn't sound possible, you know?"

The Grandmaster rolled his eyes. "You have no idea what's possible or not."

"Exactly! Everything was about survival for so long." He smiled tenderly at the Grandmaster, feeling sick inside. "Now I can think about pleasure. About seeing what there is to see. About experiencing things for myself."

"You enjoy hedonism, hm?"

"You've taught me much about that."

"And you've been quite the eager student." The slow smile on his face perhaps was meant to be seductive, but Loki still felt ill.

"I'd like to learn about this, too."

"My fallen scholar," the Grandmaster cooed. "Learn much, then report back to me. I'm sure everything being new again will be something to experience."

Of course this was where Loki had to lean up to kiss the Grandmaster in gratitude. And get his ass groped, his body pulled up so that his cock would rub up against the Grandmaster's. He knew the unspoken rules of this game, and followed them to the letter. The Grandmaster was pleased with him, and grasped both of their cocks together and pumped slowly, gently, as if the lure of going offworld to see a rare cosmic phenomena merited lovemaking.

"I hope you don't mind if I don't go with you," the Grandmaster purred. "Business here, games to organize. People to fuck."

Loki gasped at the heat in his groin and the flare of hope in his chest. "I understand. Likely boring for you," he added before leaning in for another kiss.

"You see one Convergence, you've seen a thousand," the Grandmaster said dismissively. "But yes, you can go. And you'll miss me all the while."

"Of course."

He didn't have to feign his pleasure or his gratitude. There was never any point in hiding his cries during the orgies, but he was especially loud this time as he came, spilling over the Grandmaster's fist. He had a shoulder grasped in one hand, fingers digging in tight, and the other hand grasped the Grandmaster's thigh for balance.

"I'm so good to you," the Grandmaster said, eyes hooded as he looked over Loki's flushed face.

Others stirred all around them, slowly moving to join in the pleasures. Loki only had eyes for the Grandmaster, knowing he looked like a lovesick teenager. It didn't matter what he looked like, though, not when he was getting what he wanted.

"You are," Loki purred. "It's everything I ever wanted."

And soon, he would be home again.

***

**Author's Note:**

> The musical interludes in this work are as follows.
> 
>   1. [Too Close (Unplugged) by Alex Clare](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuvdzBt64RQ)
>   2. [ Travelin' Thru (from the Transamerica soundtrack) by Dolly Parton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHcSk533Gwc)
>   3. [ Shape of My Heart / Lucid Dreams (from the NPR Tiny Desk Concert) by Sting and Gene Noble](https://youtu.be/bdneye4pzMw?t=510)
>   4. [ Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOsM-DYAEhY)
>   5. [ Chandelier (piano version) by Sia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0e_3aIqkcGQ)
>   6. [ Flesh by Simon Curtis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YF_kRhoH8kM)
>   7. [ She Used to Be Mine (from Waitress soundtrack) by Sara Bareilles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53GIADHxVzM)
>   8. [ Animal (minor cover of Neon Trees) by Chase Holfelder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=280IZQ5oBx8)
>   9. [ Alphabet Boy by Melanie Martinez](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH-5aUFoF9g)
>   10. [ Rise by Katy Perry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdw1uKiTI5c)
> 

> 
> The images used in the cover image for this work are
> 
>   * [Astarstafur from Spreadshirt](https://images.app.goo.gl/ZRt4katf2PvVSpCb9)
>   * [Loki's face was found on the “Best of Tom @hiddlesbb” twitter account (from _Thor: Ragnarok_ filming)](https://twitter.com/hiddlesbb/status/1196879686061527042)
>   * [Loki’s body is Katie McGrath wardrobe test for Merlin (TV)](https://images.app.goo.gl/1UnAfDtWNNbESkHAA)
>   * The Grandmaster image is from Thor: Ragnarok.
> 



End file.
